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About Rotterdam

Love the chaos of it, mind. Sticky tables, dim lights, some Enya crap playing—pure theatre! Exaggerating? Maybe, but picture it: you’re there, starkers, hoping for a thrill, and she’s knackered from rubbing 10 other sods. “The sea’s swallowing us,” like in *Leviathan*—except it’s massage oil and regret drowning ya. Sarcasm’s my mate here—cos who believes it’s “just a massage”? Pull the other one, it’s got bells on!

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Anyway, I kept walking, trying to shake off the weirdness. I hit the market at the Groenmarkt. It’s always buzzing with life. Fresh veggies, flowers, and all that jazz. I spotted this amazing cheese stall. You know me, I can’t resist cheese. I bought some aged Gouda, and let me tell you, it was heavenly. But then, I dropped it. Yup, right on the cobblestones. I was like, “Nooooo!” The cheese gods were not on my side today.

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